


Portrait of a Sea Storm at its Pinnacle

by suchplausibilities



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Renaissance, F/F, Third Party POV, based on a tumblr headcanon you'll probably have to read to understand what all of this is, read the headcanon, really though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 07:55:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25347322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchplausibilities/pseuds/suchplausibilities
Summary: Living in the presence of genius has taught Nia many things, but three lessons stand out:1. There is art, and then there isart2. Ingenuity is a fickle mistress3. There is no greater torture than living with two idiots in love.
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Comments: 12
Kudos: 161





	Portrait of a Sea Storm at its Pinnacle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bs13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bs13/gifts), [hrwinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrwinter/gifts), [gveret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gveret/gifts).



> Based on this headcanon: https://suchplausibilities.tumblr.com/post/187062128346/supercorp-medieval-au-or-theme-park-au
> 
> It is required reading to understand wtf is happening in this story.
> 
> Thanks to Bianca for the idea, Noam for listening to me whine about it for a year, and Hayley by enabling my laziness! 
> 
> It takes a village, y'all.

It wasn’t that Nia didn’t believe that Kara was capable of brilliance. She did. She’d seen how close Kara had come to it in previous works, and knew that it was only a matter of time until she reached it. 

(And, okay. She couldn’t say she was as convinced two years ago, when Kara had first arrived. Her first few paintings were extremely detailed depictions of leaves, bugs, and generally grassy clearings. They were... not promising. They were good, though. Well-crafted, boring paintings that, in that last moment of consciousness before it put you to sleep, you could catch a flash of potential so startling that it woke you right back up.

But, _god_. So boring. If she could have bottled inspiration and shoved it Kara’s way, she would have done so in a heartbeat. For both of their sakes.)

The secrecy made her nervous, though. Kara was not the type of painter that worked in solemn silence. Unless she was working on mastering a specific technique, the area directly around her studio was always a flurry of activity. Nia and Lena had gotten so worn out from being summoned from their shared workspace (located on the other end of the large manor) to Kara’s studio (for opinions, ideas, and/or light conversation to distract her from her work when she felt frustration building) that they had cleaned out one of the larger guest bedrooms across the hall and moved their workshop into it. Whenever possible, they left the door open (Kara’s was never closed), allowing for a much easier transition if they were called for help. 

And that was only part of it. The windows in Kara’s studio were always wide open, rain or shine (the wood suffered immensely on rainy days, but no one felt the need to complain), as she always needed some sort of sound to keep her from getting lost in her constantly-flowing thoughts. Once, she’d even asked (not paid, because, although Kara had tried, everyone in town was half in love with her and would do anything she asked) Julien, who could faithfully ran his parents’ produce stand at the marketplace, to spend the afternoon outside of her window, singing and playing the mandore intermittently. Then, of course, there were the visits by Lecia (the cook Lena had begrudgingly hired to work on alternate days after her and Nia’s usual habit of wandering into the kitchen in the middle of the night to quickly slap together something before bed proved to be too much for Kara’s needy stomach), which rarely consisted of simple food delivery, and instead usually meant a half hour (at the very least) of chatting and catching up. 

So, really. That Kara had insisted on solitude the second she’d begun transmuting her latest idea to canvas - and that she requested that she remain undisturbed during her work hours for an indefinite period of time - was extremely unsettling. Mostly because Nia didn’t know what it _meant_. Was it that Kara had finally reached some sort of independent artistic clarity, and wanted to see it through alone, from start to finish? Had she sunk into a sadness that had stripped her of her ability to absorb constant activity and companionship and transmute it into complex and increasingly innovative art, and, as a result, could now only work alone in dark, deafening silence? Was she muraling the walls of the room? Did said muraling involve bugs on leaves and blades of grass, and would ultimately result in Nia burning Kara’s studio to the ground?

The time they spent together outside of their respective projects didn’t reveal much of anything, either. Something was different - that she could tell - but it was subtle enough that she hadn’t been able to pinpoint it. She was sure Lena had noticed it, too, but she hadn’t brought it up, and hadn’t engaged any of Nia’s attempts to start a conversation about it. 

Lecia hadn’t been any help, either. Meal deliveries were no longer social occasions, and instead consisted of Lecia bringing Kara’s plate, sitting it on the ground, knocking on the studio door to inform Kara that it had arrived, and leaving. Even on the days that one of Gilet’s sweets made it onto the tray (gifts from a worried friend, Lecia had said), Kara’s new routine remained unchanged. She hadn’t noticed any changes in Kara’s behavior during formal meals, though -- an observation that was consistent with Nia’s own, and therefore of no help at all.

Maybe she was being ridiculous, dwelling so much on the change that it made her uneasy, but there was a fine line between curiosity and obsession, and that she’d long since shifted from the former to the latter made her concern seem to her to be very logical and rational, even if it wasn’t. 

So, when Kara finds her in the garden, waiting until she’s caught Nia’s eye before she calmly and reservedly asks to show her something, Nia has to stop herself from throwing her wine glass over her shoulder, dropping her sketchbook to the ground, and dragging Kara to her studio as fast as she can. That she takes time to sit the two down carefully, rise calmly, and follow Kara’s leisurely (read: _so slow it was painful and god how old was she again?_ ) pace is surely a feat of self-control worthy of the Pope himself. That she doesn’t huff when they stop by the parlour to pick up Lena, who’s spending her day off reading a disgustingly large book about the Roman Empire, and even smiles excitedly at her friend as she takes far too much time to put the book down and join them? She’s sure that’s an indication that she possesses some sort of latent divinity. By the time they get to the studio, she’s seriously considering applying for sainthood.

\-----

It takes a second, once the three of them make it to Kara’s easel (situated, as always, near - but angled slightly away - from the window), for her to register what it is she’s seeing. She wonders if that’s intentional; if Kara meant to make the piece so active. If she wanted the vibrancy of the colors and the complexity of the strokes to overwhelm the eye at first glance, causing them to blink and refocus until what they’re seeing can be processed clearly, with a mind more capable of discerning detail. 

If so, it’s ingenious. The total reset she experiences makes the painting go from intriguing to stunning. On second glance, it’s clearer that the vibrant blues and purples in the center of the canvas are a convergence; a confluence created by the overlapping of a figure composed of shades of bordeaux that slowly lighten as the brush strokes reach the edges of the canvas. The figure, though, is harder to discern. It takes a moment to really register that it’s a face - constructed with the conscientious detail that characterizes portraiture, only repeated in such a way that only a few features of the figure being portrayed are identifiable: a cheekbone in one corner, the sliver of a monochromatic eye underneath a distinguishing eyebrow in another. The work as a whole is passionate, intricate, and frankly extraordinary. It’s like nothing she’s ever seen before. 

It’s truly a masterpiece, and in any other circumstance, that’d be the most important takeaway. Instead, though, it’s the fact that it’s Lena. 

She doubts that anyone that hasn’t lived with her, worked with her, and dined with her for years could quite decipher who it was they were seeing. Though all of Amboise is aware of her true gender, Lena is almost never Lena anywhere but at home. Luciano is the uniform she wears when she is away from the manor, even if it’s a simple run to town for supplies. For all intents and purposes, her very existence outside of the walls of Leonardo da Vinci’s home is defined by the person she’d been pretending to be since she was 18 years old. 

But this is not a painting of Luciano Michelini. This is _Lena_. Complex, and overwhelming, and impossible to comprehend without the proper perspective. 

(She’d always said that Kara’s constant failure at painting a viable portrait had to do with her inability to find the right subject. She doesn’t have to study the painting for very long to realize that she’d only been partially correct.)

Nia isn’t sure how long they’ve been standing there - she and Lena staring at the painting as Kara stared at the two of them - but it had been long enough. Behind them, Kara has begun to shuffle restlessly; movement so audible that her anxiety is nearly palpable. Nia’s stuck, though. She desperately wants to explain how completely visceral Kara’s work is, and how Nia is nothing short of amazed, and how she’s never seen a painting quite so full of life, but those words won’t come. Not in a way that feels real, at least. But she can’t leave Kara to stew. She has to say something.

What she comes up with is simply, “ _Kara_.” It’s breathy and fond, and she’s not sure that it’s enough, but she hopes it comes close.

Kara smiles shakily at her, but quickly turns her eyes to Lena. She looks as if whatever Lena has to say about what she’s seeing will make or break her. Nia’s not sure it won’t. This painting is nothing short of a love letter; a manifestation of what Kara has so clearly been feeling for so long. Nia can’t say for certain that it’s love - she’s spent enough time around philosophical artists to have concluded that love isn’t just one thing, expressed in one certain way - but she doesn’t think it would be a stretch to say that it was. Kara’s just too fond, and too comfortable, and too frank with Lena to not be at least a little bit in love with her.

Lena, though…

Nia couldn’t claim to know everything about Lena, but she didn’t think it was a stretch to say that she was the person that knew the most. It’d been just over three years since she’d shown up at the front door of signore da Vinci’s manor - anxious, inexperienced, and barely more than a child - determined to meet the genius inventor himself and prove herself worthy to work under and learn from his gifted apprentice. She’d seen them in town quite a bit - had even seen signore da Vinci with them a few times, before his sickness left him bedbound - but had never been brave enough to make an approach. That day, though, maman had revealed her own illness, laid out her wishes for her family, and given Nia the courage that she’d been lacking. 

She’d needed every bit of it, as it turned out. Even after she’d made it through the door, even after she’d proven that she had a knack for the strange way of thinking that made signore da Vinci and his apprentice so revolutionary, even after she’d moved in, even after she’d learned that Luciano was the mask, and Lena the person, even after she’d dedicated all of her time and effort into making herself of use in her new home, even after she’d gained the respect of her teachers, worked all hours on creating and improving on inventions, learned the ins and outs of life at the chateau, cared for signore da Vinci as he slowly became less of a person and more of a body, designated herself Lena’s caretaker when her grief ate away at her self-preservations skills- 

Even _then_ -

Even then, she’d found that pushing back against Lena’s staunch determination to keep everyone at a distance, making it clear she was there to stay, and waiting until Lena was comfortable enough to love and let herself be loved by someone new took more courage and patience and determination than anything she’d ever experienced.

And she wasn’t even in love with her. 

Lena had romantic feelings toward Kara, she was sure, but that kind of love was something else entirely. Nia had been watching the two of them very closely - she didn’t have much else to do with her free time, frankly - and she couldn’t say the Lena that she saw in interactions with Kara was one that was truly… herself. It wasn’t hard for her to guess what that meant.

She hated it, she really did, (not only because she desperately wanted them to be together so that she could live vicariously through their romantic life, but it was admittedly a factor), but she was pretty sure Lena wasn’t there yet, and she wasn’t sure that she would be any time soon. And, if she was using this painting as a measuring stick, she’d say that Kara’s heart was far too invested to wait very long. 

“My ideas always come in parts,” Kara says, quickly and nervously. Her need to fill the silence is almost palpable. “I can usually tell when they’re useful - when I have a concept I can work into a complete thought - but I have a lot of trouble, sometimes, getting there on my own. Distraction usually helps. But this one-” She glances over to her painting briefly, tensing slightly at Lena’s persistent stoicism. “-this one was whole. I didn’t know how to preserve it, except by trapping it in with me. I don’t know if it was what I needed, really. It could have been all in my head,” Kara takes a deep breath, straightening up, even as her gaze remains brittle, “but I think I got it right. It feels _right_.”

Nia smiles softly at her, hoping that she’s managed something that’s closer to ‘I support you’ than the ‘I am so nervous that this is going to end badly and you’re going to be heart broken, but I am trying not to lose hope because I don’t want you to lose hope’ that she’s feeling right now. Sure, to her it’s looking bleak, but she’s not a mind reader or anything, right? There’s no reason for her to assume the worst before Lena’s even said anything. That’s unfair. 

“I’m not a painter, but I’ve met a few, and isn’t the rule usually ‘if it feels right, then it is right?’” Is her smile stiffening up? God, she hopes not. It needs to be soft and supportive and not terrified of what’s going to happen next. That’d be bad. Kara would definitely notice that, she’s sure. “I would go with that. If you ask me, though? It looks pretty right from over here.” It’s the truth, and Nia doesn’t even question if it comes out as genuinely as it feels this time. Kara’s returning smile is much more steady than it had been, and just enough tension leaves her shoulders to be noticable. That’s something, at least.

Now that she’s a little less worried about Kara, Nia feels ready to brave a glance at Lena, whose lack of response is beginning to feel stifled. She’s more than a little bit unnerved to see that Lena’s staring right back at her. 

Or - no. She’s looking right over Nia’s shoulder, watching Kara. Her face is still largely blank, but her eyes have softened some. Nia feels a little better, seeing that Lena hasn’t completely checked out. The air in the room is finally moving again. 

She’s just decided to say something - something to get the two talking, maybe - when she’s beaten to the punch. 

“I’m going to go for a walk,” Lena says, breaking the heavy silence with the grace of a rock hitting a window. “Just a short one, I’m sure. I’ll be back soon.”

And then she’s gone.

Nia supposes that she should be surprised, but she’s not, really. She knows what’s happening here. It’s a Lena Classic, and she isn’t quite sure why she hadn’t included it in her mental list of possible outcomes to this situation. 

Because, really - she should know better. She’s been Lena’s apprentice for nearly the entire time she’s lived at the chateau, and Lena still refuses to refer to her as such. The idea that Lena “doesn’t have nearly enough knowledge,“ or that she’s “as far from capable as one could possibly be to be any sort of guide,” and “not qualified to be anyone’s teacher” is laughable, not only because she’s almost single-handedly advancing the scope and capabilities of modern technology by leaps and bounds, but also because she’s personally teaching Nia about her methods and thought processes, and has been doing so for the entire time they’ve known each other, before Lena had even agreed to let her be her shadow. Nia’s honestly baffled that she’s still denying it, when it’s so clearly the truth of their relationship. She’d worked so hard to get Lena to let her in; she’d have thought that recognizing where they fit into each others’ lives would be easier by now.

And that’s really the problem, isn’t it? Lena is incapable of seeing herself as anything but the person she was when she became an apprentice to da Vinci. She’s made great strides in moving away from strictly following his work and instead using what she’s learned to develop and create machinery of her own design, but she can’t seem to separate herself from that girl that decided to leave her gilded but loveless home to focus on her passionate determination to make things easier for everyone the only way she knew how, sacrificing a large part of herself in the process. Nia’s not sure if it’s habit, or belief that she was at her best then, or some strange, nonsensical sense of obligation, but it’s clearly a sticking point for Lena. So much so that, if Nia’s own experiences with her are any indication, being confronted with Kara’s perception of her has Lena reeling. 

And so, she runs. Kind of. Nia’s not so sure that she went very far. In her experience, Lena’s not a runner, but she is definitely a ponderer. A ponderer that chooses inappropriate moments to disappear and ponder in solitude. _exhausting._

Decision made, she takes the few short steps that bring her to Kara, and pulls her into a tight hug. She looks like she needs it. “It’ll be okay. I’ve got it.” 

She backs away, then, walking backwards towards the door as she smiles softly at Kara, hoping that it’s at least a little bit comforting. “I’m going to find her and bring her back, and then you guys can work this all out. I know I’ve known her longer, but I’m Team Kara on this one. I’ll get her here.”

Kara just shrugs, clearly uncertain, but looking a little less dejected. “I’ll be here.”

“Okay, but- Maybe sit down or something? You’re looking a little wobbly.”

She waits until Kara takes her suggestion, and then she leaves.

\-------------

Just as Nia had suspected, Lena’s walk had taken her barely five hundred steps away from the chateau, up to a hill that overlooked the countryside. 

Nia sighs before taking a seat beside her, legs crossed. “You’re getting predictable, you know.”

Lena turns toward her just slightly, just enough for Nia to catch sight of her raised eyebrow. It can mean many things, she’s come to learn, but she can’t quite decipher it this time. Lena’s face is serene; calm and content in a way that Lena herself rarely is. It’s unusual enough that Nia can’t quite grasp what Lena’s trying to tell her this time. “Am I?”

“I found you, didn’t I?” Nia laughs, turning her eyes to the cloudless sky when she notices that Lena has already done the same. It’s a little dull. It almost reminds her of something Kara would have painted when she’d first arrived, in fact. She can see why it’d be a good view to think to, though. There isn’t much else to do.

Somehow, it still surprises her when she finds herself falling deep into thought herself, silent as her musings drifted from her family to her future to her desires, and back again.. She’d come out here with the purpose of getting Lena back to the manor; of convincing her that Kara deserved the chance to hear what she was thinking, even if she still needed to work through it. Instead, it’s Lena calling to her some unspecified time later, informing her that she was going back to the chateau, just in case Nia felt the need to follow.

She rolls her eyes, taking Lena’s proffered hand and standing up to follow her. The trip back is made mostly in silence, but Nia can’t help but ask one question. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Lena doesn’t turn back to look at her, but her tone is surprisingly light when she replies, “Did you?”

Nia doesn’t find the need to say anything else, after that.

\-----

They’re greeted with the sounds of clanging pots and distracted humming when they make their way through the front door, and Nia groans in response. So much for staying put in the studio.

The kitchen of Clos Lucé was large and intricate; a stark reminder that they lived in a home that was meant to host dozens of foreign dignitaries, and was, perhaps, a little bit too much for just the three of them. Sure, Kara, Nia was convinced, was never not hungry, but she and Lena more than balanced it out with their irregular (read: poor) eating patterns. It was why Lena had sent away their kitchen staff after signore da Vinci had died, and why they’d suffered through nearly a month of Kara’s constant, hungry fidgeting before they’d finally found Lecia. She had been the only person in town that seemed entirely unintimidated by the size of the kitchen, and had proven herself more than capable of shrinking the large space into a workable area for just one person. 

A few months ago, when Kara’s need for distraction from art-related frustration was at an all-time high, she’d wandered into the kitchen and followed Lecia around, insisting that she learn more about crafting quality meals that could last them, should Lecia be unavailable at any point in time. She came out that evening dirty and grinning, proud to be learning a useful new skill. 

Weeks later, after several impromptu lessons, Lecia had pulled Nia and Lena aside and told them to never, ever let Kara into that kitchen alone, lest she set the entire outfit (or, as was more likely, herself) alight. 

So, naturally, the kitchen had become the most likely place to find Kara when she was feeling especially anxious or overwhelmed. 

Though they’d both been entirely prepared to heed Lecia’s warning, it didn’t take long to see that spending time fiddling in the kitchen (undercooking meat, mincing vegetables until they were unidentifiable, and charbroiling loaves of bread) really did help Kara to clear her mind and work through her frustration better than anything else. This meant, of course, that neither could bring themselves to intrude upon or limit Kara’s kitchen time. Instead, when the signs pointed towards a need for kitchen therapy, one of them would find a reason to spend an extended amount of time in the parlour, which was only a room away. 

It’s been a relatively successful compromise. So far, they’ve only had three fires (and only one of those had spread beyond Kara’s small workspace), a half dozen or so minor injuries, one moderate injury, and one incident that required them to relocate to the garden until the manor could rid itself of a surprisingly large amount of particularly noxious smoke. 

Although there were no signs of imminent catastrophe as they made their way into the parlour, Nia wasn’t foolish enough to think that they were out of the woods. Facing potential rejection by the person you loved was likely much more distressing (and therefore much more likely to lead to cooking disasters) than having a bad case of artist’s block. 

That knowledge didn’t stop her from making strides toward the kitchen, though. She was pretty sure that, right now, Kara needed reassurance much more than she needed solitude. 

“It needs to be me.” The soft words were accompanied by Lena’s hand falling onto her shoulder, gripping firmly. In her determination to make it to Kara, Nia hadn’t even noticed that Lena had fallen behind her. Her friend’s words were a stark reminder, though: This particular situation was not one that Nia could mitigate. Lena was right. It had to be her. 

Nia just nodded, stepping to the side so that Lena could pass through the kitchen door in front of her. She couldn’t help but notice how confident and resolved Lena seemed; as if she were afraid that any strain or uncertainty in her posture would trip up her tongue and derail what was already bound to be a tense conversation. 

Kara is nowhere to be seen as she and Lena walk into the kitchen, but the incomprehensible muttering and increasingly frantic fiddling somewhere to their left make it clear that Kara hasn’t left the room. The growl of irritation followed by a series of crashes tell her that Kara’s also maybe on the cusp of some sort of breakdown. 

Nia looks to Lena, trying to gather what it is she plans to do here, and is met with that same unperturbed, serene expression that she’d had on the hill. Not only is it frustratingly unreadable, it’s also quickly beginning to creep Nia out. Is this one of the signs that a person has been possessed? She makes a mental note to stop in and see Father Adrien the next time she goes to town. She definitely needs a refresher on the subject.

“Oh!” In the time it takes for Nia to check back into her surroundings, Kara appears, face smudged with oven soot and arms full of jars. She seems frozen where she stands; shock and anxiety working together to form a smile that Nia’s sure is meant to embody ‘girl pleasantly surprised to see friends,’ but has only managed to reach ‘girl attempting to remain cheerful even as she is being lightly flogged.’ The effect isn’t the same. 

“I hadn’t thought that you’d be back so soon.” Kara says, shuffling slightly from foot to foot. The jars clinking together with the action are warning enough - Nia doesn’t hesitate as she walks over to Kara, carefully takes the jars from her, and deposits them gently on a nearby table. Kara uses the opportunity to wring her now-free hands together, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge Nia’s heroic rescue. Nia’s much too worried to care. 

“I figured I’d make us something. For when you came back, I mean. Don’t worry - I wasn’t going to try a roast again. Watching a friend catch fire as a result of your cooking is not a lesson that has to be learned twice. I thought I’d do something simple. Like a soup. Soups are easy. Just a broth and vegetables. Except I couldn’t find the leftover chicken, and the pot almost boiled over because I spent too much time looking, and so I thought I’d try something else, but now you’re back, so…” She trails off at that, clearly hoping that someone else takes the hint and picks up the loose thread. Her nerves are apparently too frayed to actually wait, though, because Nia hasn’t even come up with a helpful segway before she’s off again. 

“I didn’t mean to put so much pressure on you. Both of you, I mean. I know the painting seemed like a big deal because I was so weird about it, but it doesn’t have to be! I mean, it’s just a painting. It’s pretty much all I do. This one is pretty good, I think, but it’s probably just the start. I mean, I’m in a good place, creatively, so there’s no reason—

“I think that we should be married.”

Nia’s head whips over her shoulder in a flash, causing her neck to pop painfully in the process. The quiet ow she lets out feels way too loud in the still room, but Kara and Lena don’t even twitch. It only takes a brief look between the two of them to forget about the pain herself, and re-focus on what had just happened. Kara’s eyes are wide, and her mouth slightly parted; almost as if her jaw started to drop and was too shocked to go any further. Lena’s tense. Nia honestly wonders if she’s taken a breath since she last spoke. She looks strangely resolved, though; sure in a way Nia doesn’t quite understand because she just asked Kara to marry her and what the hell— 

“I— What?” Kara says, finally, and thank God Nia’s not the only one who hasn’t gone completely insane because she isn’t sure that she could hold down the fort on her own. 

“I know it sounds absurd, but we’re in a very unique position here. When it comes to the law and the impression of the public, I am, for all intents and purposes, a man. There would be nothing strange about my taking a wife. In fact, it’s beginning to look strange that I haven’t.” Lena takes a deep, shuddering breath, then, and it looks so laborious that Nia finds herself inching towards her, ready to assist if Lena’s emotional efforts rob her of the ability to remain upright. “It just seems to me that it would be a wasted opportunity not to make our… companionship official.”

There’s something wrong, here. Nia feels as if the world has turned completely onto its side, and she hadn’t even realized that it had started to tilt. How is it that she had gotten everything so wrong? If she tried, she could convince herself that Lena was simply proposing a business transaction of some sort, even if the reasoning was unclear. But that was only if she focused solely on the words. The way Lena was acting, though… 

She had thought, earlier, that Lena’s potentially lackluster reaction to the painting could do Kara permanent damage. Now, though, she knows that, even if that were true, she’d gotten the dynamic all wrong. When she looks at Lena - stoic, breathless, anxious to the point of rigidity, but looking more certain about this than Nia has ever seen her be about anything - she sees someone putting everything that they have on the line. She’s completely sure that, should Kara rebuff her, Lena will be wrecked. 

God. She was such an idiot to think that she had any idea of how Lena would behave when she fell in love. How could you possibly draw a forest if you’ve never seen a tree? 

“I don’t- I don’t think that I understand?” With the weight of this massive revelation pressing down in the majority of her brain, it takes Nia a moment to understand why Kara still sounds so confused. Isn’t it clear, by now? Lena had just revealed to Kara that she loved her, and had asked—

Oh. Wait. Had Lena done that? 

Oh, God. She hadn’t! She hadn’t — she’d implied that they shared some sort of connection, but that was after proposing marriage in a way that made it seem as if she thought it was a practical step for she and Kara to make, to take advantage of a unique opportunity. 

Nia can tell what Lena’s really saying, but she’s in the middle of a world-changing revelation, and is therefore watching Lena very closely. Kara, though, has spent the last few hours gearing herself up for heartbreak, and hasn’t had very long to recalibrate her brain based on what she knows about Lena’s personality. Of course she’s confused. Discerning the meaning behind Lena’s words and actions is likely a lot harder when they’re preceded by her fleeing the building immediately after you’ve revealed - via oil painting - that you’re kind of obsessed with her. 

She’s willing to admit that she’d been a total clod to have remained so oblivious about this situation for so long, but the way Lena has managed to bungle this situation, despite being entirely aware of Kara’s feelings for her? She’s just as much of a clod as Nia. A bigger one, even. 

As Nia turns to look at her, though, she can tell that she knows it. Lena’s rigidity has fled her entirely, but the anxiety isn’t gone - her shaking hands give that much away. The confidence is still there, too, but it’s not something you have to look for, anymore. The way she’s looking at Kara gives everything away. And when she speaks, there’s no questioning her intent.

“I wasn’t honest about the depth of my feelings, before. On that day - when you were ill and I kept you company and our conversation led to our admitting our feelings for each other? I told you not to ignore your earlier works; that all of your paintings are beautiful-“

Kara interrupts her without hesitation. “-because they express who I was as an artist then, just as my recent ones do now, and the journey is one I’ll want to remember.”

“Yes. That.” Lena pauses momentarily, gathering herself. Nia takes that moment to glance at Kara. She looks as if she’s barely breathing. “It was an understatement. What I really meant was that all of your paintings are invaluable. Not because they document your artistic growth, but because they document you. And I don't want to forget who you were then, or who you became within the next year, or who you are now. I don’t see how I could ever forget, but I don't want to take any chances. I-“ Lena’s breath hitches, and if Nia wasn’t already crying, she’d have started now. “I have more than just affection for you. Much more. I have for longer than you know. I hadn’t gathered the strength to tell you, then. I was afraid.” She didn’t bother to elaborate. She didn’t need to. “I’m not anymore. I love you, and I would very much like to marry you.”

Once again, a heavy silence settles around them.  
Unlike the previous, almost foreboding ones they’d endured today, this one holds an electric anticipation that has Nia anxious to see what happens next.

Kara’s the one to break it, once again. “Nia…?” She asks, eyes not leaving Lena’s. She’s at an odd angle between them, so she’s sure she’s not receiving the full brunt of what the two of them are sharing, but even from here it’s…wow. A lot. 

“Don’t I have something I need to do somewhere that’s not here? I do, actually. I’ll be… elsewhere, if you need me.”

She takes a few steps backwards before rounding Lena and walking through the swinging door into the parlour. She pauses after a few steps, considering. Maybe she’ll just settle here for a minute. It feels wrong to run off without making sure things are going well, first. It’s only right to stay until she’s sure they’re okay. 

“Can ‘elsewhere’ _not_ be the parlour?” Kara’s words are as kind and pleasant as ever, but much firmer than normal. Her Maman was right - love really does change people. 

Nia doesn’t bother responding; she just sighs - hopefully loud enough for Kara and Lena to hear - and makes her way out to the foyer. She can’t help that she’s invested in their relationship! It had practically unfolded in front of her; what did they expect?

Come to think of it…

It doesn’t take long for her to decide that the best use of her forced exile is taking a trip into town. There are a few things she needs to look into. 

(Is it presumptuous to go ahead and start with the planning of their wedding? Maybe. It really doesn’t matter, though. She’s going to do it anyway.)


End file.
